


Moments of Accord

by fauness



Category: Thor (Movies), Thor - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Pre-Canon, frigga's really just a little cameo but w/e
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-22
Updated: 2013-12-22
Packaged: 2018-01-05 12:05:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,701
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1093676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fauness/pseuds/fauness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Lizardbeth.</p><p>A week's worth of happiness and harmony between Sif and Loki, set pre-canon, or: Loki and Sif take a spontaneous, lovely vacation.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moments of Accord

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lizardbeth](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lizardbeth/gifts).



They sit on his bed with their hair disheveled, their faces flushed, and the blankets tangled around their waists.

Neither of the two say anything for a long, long while; the only sounds are those of the fire crackling in the hearth and their mingled breathing. Sif rests her head on Loki’s shoulder. His eyes are shut, his face weary, his lashes brushing against his cheekbones.

“Loki?” she asks quietly. Sif hates to break the silence - to speak is to possibly ruin the careful tranquility of this moment. Moments like this, with a mercurial love like Loki, are few and far between.

“Mm?” he responds, his chest rumbling with the sound.

“Do you,” Sif pauses to think on her words and brushes a bit of dark hair back, “remember that winter when your mother took us all to the country?”

Green eyes flutter open, and Loki looks down at her on his shoulder. “Of course I do,” he says matter-of-factly. “You shoved snow down Thor’s tunic. He shrieked like a dying hound.”

Sif laughs, her face lighting up at the memory. “I did! I’d almost forgot about that.”

They fall quiet once again; the silence thankfully remains warm. She dozes lightly, half-dead to the world, with her head still cushioned on Loki’s broad shoulder. His fingers run through her hair slowly, soothingly. She is almost fully asleep when he wakes her up with a light shake.

“Would you like to spend a week there once more?” he asks.

Blinking the sleep out of her eyes, Sif raises her brows. “Where? That little cottage in the countryside?”

“Yes,” he says impatiently. “Would you go back there with me?”

Sif’s mind races; her hands flutter uselessly in her lap. “Of course I would. When would we go?”

“Now,” Loki says, standing up suddenly. “Let’s go now.”

“It’s the middle of the night,” Sif protests weakly, even as Loki, impulsive Loki, throws the blankets and furs off of her with frenzy.  He takes her hand and pulls her out of bed, excited and slightly manic.

“Go pack,” he tells her, eyes bright with fervour. “Take anything you’ll need, anything you’ll want.”

“Will you wake your parents before we leave?” Sif asks, raising an eyebrow. “If they woke up and we had both disappeared, they’d be frantic.”

He waves a hand carelessly, two bright spots appearing high on his cheekbones. “I shall deal with that, Sif, perhaps write a note - you just pack.”

Sif shakes her head indulgently as she draws her hand from his. “Fine, you utterly mad mess of a man,” she teases. “I shall pack. For how long is our trip expected to be?”

“A week. Maybe two,” he says breathlessly. “This, Sif, this trip will be truly amazing.”

Sif grins and turns away from him, moving around the room gracelessly. She picks up items idly and contemplates adding them to her pack.

He’s very stuck upon this idea of a country getaway, Sif thinks as she shoves her cleaner pair of leggings into the bag. I hope he enjoys himself; I hope this will not be just another case of his impulsive nature getting the better of him.

When her hand lingers for too long over the clean, smooth metal of her new shield - a Yuletide gift - Loki clucks his tongue. “Do you plan on slaying tens of orcs during this vacation? No, no. Leave the shield.”

“Not orcs, perhaps, but monsters.”

“Do you think Frigga would bring three children into a land infested with monsters?” Loki asks, eyebrows raised.

“There’s a monster in this very palace, you know,” Sif says slyly. “Grumpy when it’s woken early, never brushes its hair - a dangerously clever thing.”

“Oh, be quiet,” Loki huffs. “Morning is a highly unnatural time for any proper sorcerer to be awake.”

“The other point is still valid,” Sif adds playfully. “Pack yourself a hairbrush.”

That’s when she notices that he doesn’t even have his own bag out, nevermind such apparently plebian things such as clothing or toiletries.  “Along with that hairbrush, you may want to start with things such as clothes, a bag, and other various necessities,” she says.

“Magic,” he explains, wriggling his fingers. “I’ll be fine.”

“Why could you not use magic for my own things?”

“I will,” he promises, playing with his own hair. “Just...finish packing first.”

She watches as he smooths untidy hair back into order for a second and turns back to the room. Was there anything else she desired? She picks up a gown peeking out from Loki’s wardrobe, considering that, and that moment is when her eyes alight on a small, leather-bound journal sitting on a nearby table.

“Loki,” she asks, pointing at the book. “Is that empty?”

“Mm?” He raises his face from his darkened fingernails. “Oh, yes. Why?”

“I want it.”

“Take it,” Loki says plainly, returning to his examination of his nails.

“Thank you,” Sif answers, snatching it up and crushing it close to her chest, along with the gown still in her hand. “Just these two last things, I think. Are you ready?”

“Yes, yes,” he replies carelessly.

“And the note? You’ve written it?”

“Of course, now, come on.”

Loki grabs her hand, taking the dress and journal from her and shoving them unceremoniously into the bag. She watches silently as the bag disappears, presumably fading into some magical space in between worlds. Or something. Sif had never paid much attention to her mother during even the most basic of lectures on magic.

“Alright, lady,” Loki says cheerfully, too cheerfully for the late hour. Damn nocturnal sorcerers. “We’re off to the stables, then.”

She takes his arm, placing her head once again on his shoulder. The halls are quiet when they step out into them; the sounds of their footsteps echo through the golden corridors. Torchlight dances merrily on the walls, and despite the night outside, it is almost cozy.

Loki stops outside the doors that open to the northern courtyard. His hands touch her temples gently, following the line of her cheekbones to her shoulders. She smiles as the magic washes over her for a split-second and feels it form into a hooded, furry cloak.

He materializes his own cloak  soon after, and leather gloves for them both. “It’s freezing outside,” he tells her.

“Ah,” she replies. “Then let us make haste to that little cottage.”

Loki opens the door with a wave of his hand, and they take off in a run to the stables. Sif’s gloved hand catches Loki’s. Every puff of their mingled breath is visible in the cold.

They are panting when they reach the warm air that smells of hay and horse hair. The horses nicker quietly at their entrance, or snuffle in their sleep.

They unlatch the stalls of their respective steeds, saddling and leading them out of the stables and into the cool winter air. Sif swings onto her saddle easily; she sees Loki do the same.

Sharing an excited smile with her lover, Sif digs her heels into the mare’s golden side. The mare startles, running at a gallop. “I’ll race you,” she calls back. “First one out of the city wins!”

“You’ve cheated,” Loki shouts at her, as if Sleipnir could not run twice as fast as her own mare.

“Of course I did, trickster! What hope would I have of winning if I did not?”

Loki’s laugh fills her with warmth despite the chilled air streaming past her face.

Snow is perhaps not the best terrain for horse racing, but no one is injured and it does not take long before the sound of hooves on snowy cobblestone changes to the sound of hooves on hard, ice-covered snow. They take it slower there, at a cautious walk. Loki has caught up to her by now - they make idle small talk and try to ignore the feelings of cold noses and chapped lips. The sun rises slowly, spreading orangy-pink light over the vast expanses of snow.

Miles and miles of riding lead them to a high wall in the wood with locked gates set squarely in the middle. Sif looks to Loki and thinks, if he has forgotten the key to this place, he will never be forgiven.

Loki trots his forse forward a few steps and announces, "My name is Loki, of Asgard, of the House of Odin, and I am a prince loyal to the realm. My companion is Sif, of Asgard, of the House of Tyr, and she is a sworn warrior loyal to the realm."

The gates swing open, creaking slightly.

“Impressive magic,” Sif says nonchalantly as their horses clop through the gate.

“Yes, well, I didn’t do it,” Loki says. “Mother told me Grandmother Bestla did, when she carried Father. It detects falsehoods.”

She hums, nodding. They reach the small cottage soon after. The old roof is heavy with snow; the stony gardens peek out from their blanket of frost. It’s just as they remember.

-o-

She greets Loki in the morning with a cup of hot mead.

They sip their flagons together in bed, cold toes nudging the other teasingly. They exchange sly smiles, clever words. Kisses that taste sweeter than the mead ever could. 

That same day, they ride through the snow once more. The horses’ hooves kick up the white powder as they gallop in the woods.  
  
When they return to the cottage, Sif slides behind Loki underneath the fur, curling up around him. It’s warm. It’s comforting, lulling. It’s exactly the kind of retreat she thinks they both had been looking for during the holiday season.

-o-

"Didn't your mother take us to a lake nearby? To swim?"

Loki frowns as he remembers. "Yes. I don't know why Thor and you wished to swim so badly - it was so cold that the lake had frozen solid."

"We skated," Sif reminesces. 

"You want to go there?" 

Biting her lip, Sif considers it. "Yes," she says decisively. "Maybe this time we can swim."

Loki looks at her askance. "It's even colder than it was when we came here with Mother."

Sif shrugs. "Don't fuss, come on. Let's go."

They bundle up before they step outside. Cloaks, gloves. Sif even convinces Loki to wrap a green scarf round the neck of his cloak, despite all his complaints that he "never really feels the cold anyways".

"Shall we take the horses?" Loki asks lightly.

Sif shakes her head. "Let them stay warm in the stables. We can walk."

So they do. The sound of snow crunching underneath boots breaks the silence of the woods, though they do chatter a bit. 

Sif can hardly keep herself from gasping when they enter the clearing of the lake. It's frozen solid, with sunlight gleaming off the surface. "It's beautiful," she breathes. "Do you think Jotunheim looks like that, Loki?"

"I don't care one whit what Jotunheim looks like," Loki says. He catches her hand and squeezes it. "Frost giants likely couldn't appreciate such a vista even if it did."

She laughs. "This is true." 

Sif pulls her hand out of Loki's and meanders to the the lakeside. One foot nudges the edge of the ice; it's slippery. When Sif turns big grey eyes unto Loki, he exasperatedly creates bladed shoes upon their very feet. As if he did not know she would wish to skate. They swoop across the thick ice, spinning and zooming and sliding.

Sif laughs herself to tears when Loki falls solidly on his arse. Loki retaliates with a snowball to the face, and ice-skating quickly devolves into childish snow-play.

Just as she did to Thor all those centuries ago, Sif shoves snow down this Odinson’s shirt as well. Where his brother cried like a hound on the verge of death, Loki yelps like one of Freyja’s cats when they are startled.

-o-

The rest of the week is mostly spent idly around the cottage. They gossip - “I hear Fandral recently spent a weekend with a lovely pair of twins, you know,” and “It is said that Amora makes frequent trips to a seedy bar in the city, and lets none know what goes on in there - do you think?” and the like, it is nothing important. And they laugh, and they bicker. They read, on occassion, or Sif sketches or scribbles little notes down in her journal.

The cold air is refreshing each they step out into the snowy courtyard with cups of spiced drink. More refreshing than the air of the city. They tease, and watch the snow fall. Sif can’t remember being more happy. More amorous. More in love.

-o-

Lounging on the low couch, Sif twines her ankles with Loki’s. They lie there, legs tangled loosely together. Loki’s attention is focused entirely on the heavy tome in his lap. Sif slouches, unladylike, scrawling all the details of their journey into the little book. They leave for the city tomorrow, and Sif wants to forget none of it.

When Loki yawns - rare for him when he is so enthralled with a text - Sif glances up. “Time to retire, trickster?” she asks playfully.

Loki rolls his eyes, but when she stands up and offers a hand he takes it. Tucking their respective books underneath their arms, the lovers head to the warmth of their bed upstairs.

The morning light streams through the window hours later; Sif slowly gets out of bed, as quietly as she can to not wake Loki. The floor is cold. She wishes they had had the presence of mind to stoke a fire last night. But, in their lazy happiness, Sif knows it is all to easy to forget mundane things like that.

Pushing the gauzy fabric of the curtain to the side, Sif looks out the window. The snow melted overnight. She sees mud, browned grass, cold chunks of dirty slush that hadn’t yet disappeared.

Well, at least they would not have to ride back to the palace through drifts and drifts of snow.

Packing takes no time at all. A sweep of Loki’s arm, a wave of gently green magic, and everything stuffs itself back inside the bags.

It is really leaving the place that Sif does not look forward to. To leave this country haven behind for the city bustle...does not sound appetizing. Still, they must return to family and duty. For Asgard.

Mounting their horses once more, they start at a slow walk. No racing this time - both wish to take their time. They meander through the muddy grass. It’s a leisurely ride; it takes at least twice what it did on the way there.

Eventually, though, all good things must pass. The country gravel trails change to well-paved stone. Houses are passed more frequently, until they are actually inside the city.

They head straight for the stables when they near the palace. The horses are unsaddled, unbridled, before a stablehand notices them.

“Prince Loki,” the boy says, his eyes wide. “Would you mind, overmuch, if I ran to inform your parents of your return?”

“Not at all,” Loki says carelessly, waving a hand.

When he turns away from the boy, Sif sees a smirk on his face that does not bode well for anyone. Oh, Loki, she thinks, what have you done now?

-o-

“Gone!” Frigga exclaims. “Without a trace, a clue, without a note - what were you two thinking? Honestly. You’re not seven hundred anymore, children, why didn’t you act like adults?”

Sif stares down at her shoes, trying not to meet Frigga’s disappointed eyes. Loki, the little sneak, the awful little bugger, had not written a note. The Liesmith had lied.

“Mother,” Loki protests.

Sif is already wincing in anticipation of what will come out of his mouth next.

“We are adults though,” he argues. “I’m a millennia this summer and Sif will be - what, nine hundred eighty-four? It was just a week’s trip. And besides, certainly, Heimdall knew of our location.”

“He did!” Frigga says, her face reddening from embarrassment. “And he asked me to specifically tell you to never do such _unprincely_ things to his sister in his sight again.”

Sif’s face blooms red as well as Frigga’s last sentence registers in her mind. _Oh no._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope everyone enjoyed (and especially Lizardbeth <3)! This was fun to write, and this was a really fun holiday exchange to participate in. I'm super glad I did~!
> 
> Well...happy holidays, everyone!
> 
> Vaguely inspired by Mindy Gledhill's Winter Moon ~ also known as the most SifLoki winter song in existence


End file.
